


a delicate amount of clutter

by vexedcer



Series: okay (or something similar) [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage Proposal, thats it thats the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexedcer/pseuds/vexedcer
Summary: The world is made up of both big and small things, and now that Blaine spends the big chunks belting out songs on a Broadway stage, using all the small moments he has to listen to Sam’s heartbeat and hold his hand (and have a quickie in the shower) makes sense.Or; traditions and perfection are overrated.





	a delicate amount of clutter

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes. im coming back to this universe, of course i am. its been nearly a year but i just couldn't leave it alone. this fic takes place circa 2020-ish but like basically none of it is canon. 
> 
> the only triggers for this are (non-explicit) mentions of panic attacks, exploration of strained familial relations (from an outsider's pov) and a very off-hand reference of alcoholism, but like, not really? its remarkably light for this series, considering.

Sam’s been calling his mom on Sunday evening every week without fail since he first moved back to McKinley. 

He asks about the kids; Stevie has a girlfriend now, and Stacy is more focused on math than a relationship. They’ve grown up a lot while he’s been away, and it always gives him a little pang of something like pain when he goes home and sees that his baby brother is as tall as him.

His mom asks about Blaine - sometimes he tells her about how hard he’s working, proving his worth on his debut run on Broadway. Sometimes Sam tells her about how he had a panic attack on their bathroom floor last week and it was the scariest thing he’s ever experienced, just waiting for it to end.

But it was the first one in a while, and he still sees Dr. Web on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes the stress just gets to him. 

Blaine trusts Mary more than he trusts his own parents combined; they’ve spent enough time drinking chamomile in their cosy little kitchen when the two visit home and Blaine can’t sleep. She takes everything in her stride remarkably. Blaine thinks this is what mothers are supposed to be like.

But there’s something Sam wants to tell her, has wanted to tell her since he thought of it three days ago.

“I want to marry him,” he blurts out, looking out over the city from the window of their apartment. “I know we're still young, but I just -” He pauses, scrambling for words that somehow articulate all of the warm feelings that fill up his insides when he's with Blaine. 

He's never been very good with words - he can sing other people's lyrics and he can draw pictures to try and show the well of emotions sitting in his chest. Blaine's always been the talker - he can charm the pants off anyone - but Sam's always struggled to get the true depth of his brain out through his mouth.

“What’s brought this on?” She asks. She doesn't sound judgy or anything, which he's thankful for.

He thinks back to three days ago, when they both had a rare night to do nothing with. They walked in the park, the breezy weather whipping against their open jackets, hands interlocked.

Blaine had laughed, the belly-deep kind, the real unfiltered kind that Sam's always proud to coax out of him. He can't even remember what he said because the whole memory is hijacked by that laugh, the way it echoes in his brain still.

His fingers had gripped his hand tighter for a moment, and his eyelashes had fluttered, and all Sam could think was  _ I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh like that. _

He doesn't tell her that, it's sappy even for him. Instead he says, “I just love him so much. I want him to know that.”

“He knows, Sam. I doubt he could miss it.” Mary's voice has the hint of a tease, but it's light and soft. 

He knows he can’t exactly ask Blaine’s father for his blessing; the two haven’t spoken in two years, and Blaine’s mother is either working herself into the ground or drinking wine to forget about her failing marriage. He supposes he should still at least try.

Asking for his hand in marriage is, admittedly, quite old-fashioned but then again, Sam's always been old fashioned; he was just raised that way. He likes holding doors open and giving up his seat on the subway and paying for dates from his own wallet (though the last one is mostly because being financially stable enough to pay makes him happy).

He dials the contact labeled in his phone as  _ Mrs Anderson (work) _ for the first time, and ponders the fact that he doesn’t have a personal number. The secretary answers with a well-practiced greeting but Sam hangs up when he’s hit with an unexpected spike of anger before she finishes her sentence.

He’s not sure why this anger is only hitting him now, because Sam’s known about the state of the Anderson Family since early in their friendship.

He’s slept in an otherwise empty house with Blaine more than a handful of times. He remembers the way in which Blaine walked through his house like it wasn’t really his home. How it was cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.

There wasn’t any baby photos anywhere of either of the Anderson siblings, no childhood photos filling up albums to the brim, no keepsake toys hidden in obvious places. It just looked like a house from one of those furniture catalogues. The ones that weren’t lived in.

Living with the Hudson-Hummels, there was a delicate amount of clutter; photos of Finn missing his two front teeth and Kurt pouring tea for his stuffed animals. Burt and Carole’s wedding album. Finn’s Dad’s ashes. Magazines on the coffee table. Novelty magnets on the refrigerator.

Even Kurt’s highly stylised room, clean and suave (at least he thinks that's the word for it), felt like somewhere someone rested, worked, occupied.

So he’s not exactly sure why he’s angry  _ now  _ as opposed to several years ago, but he is. He just  _ doesn’t understand _ how parents can turn on their kids with a blink of their eye. Especially on someone as talented and amazing as Blaine is.

He decides, then and there, standing in his apartment with his toes curling into the carpet, that Blaine’s answer is the only one that matters. 

Blaine likes to think that he’s grown up a lot; he’s not nearly as melodramatic as he used to be. He doesn’t sing ballads to an empty auditorium to express his discontent with the world anymore. He has a therapist for that now. He has a boyfriend who will actually listen to him vent now.

He guesses it’s just a part of getting older, that he can appreciate the small things. When he was fifteen, he wanted a boy to serenade him in front of everyone he knew and profess his undying love. Now he’s content with Sam singing softly in his ear when he presses up against his back in the kitchen. 

The world is made up of both big and small things, and now that Blaine spends the big chunks belting out songs on a Broadway stage, using all the small moments he has to listen to Sam’s heartbeat and hold his hand (and have a quickie in the shower) makes sense.

He makes Blaine feel safe, calm.

Home is blonde hair and blue eyes and stubble. Home is delicate art coming from strong fingers. Home is four sugars in his coffee even though Home hates both coffee and sugar. Home does impressions in bed. 

Home hasn't been a place since he packed a duffel into an ancient Chevy with no plan and drove through middle America for two months. Home hasn't been a place since they donned superhero costumed and saved the world (the Glee Club's trophy).

Sam’s not really sure how to do it. He thinks Times Square - surrounded by the signs and people. He thinks backstage after Blaine’s performance - the tiny dressing room, cramped. He thinks the choir room, back in Lima - where it all started. 

He thinks and thinks and comes up with nothing but in the end, he finds it doesn’t matter.

“I want it to be perfect,” he tells his mother on the phone a few Sundays later. “He deserves perfect.”

Mary is quiet for a moment. “You know, it was far from perfect when your father proposed to me,” she says thoughtfully. “He didn’t have a ring, he smelled like manure and we were being eaten alive by bugs.” Sam can hear a smile in her voice as she says it. “In hindsight, it was the only way I can imagine it happening.”

So it happens when they’re lying in bed, facing each other. Sam has his hand circled around Blaine’s wrist and their feet are tangled together at the foot of the bed. Any other night, he’d be content to just count his boyfriend’s eyelashes because he’s secretly a huge romantic, but he gets it now.

Blaine’s a bit of a perfectionist, but he’s mellowed over the years; perfection isn’t necessary anymore. He has someone who loves all the secret messy parts of himself that occasionally spill out on their bathroom floor, he has the career he’s always dreamed of having (and he loves it), and he’s living a version of the life he’s wanted for himself since he was a young child.

Things don’t have to be perfect for them to be good.

So when Sam whispers  _ marry me _ into the space between their bodies, eyes wide and slightly scared and very blue, it’s obvious what his answer is going to be.

He says  _ yes  _ on a breath that smells like toothpaste with a smile so blindingly bright. The words are soft and private and safe, and it’s the most right thing that Sam’s ever heard. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm honestly so happy to have come back to this series but this is undoubtedly the end. i actually had the barest bones of this idea about a week after i initially ended the series but then. Life and mental health issues happened. But i'm glad for this series to finally be complete the way I've wanted it to be. 
> 
> other things;
> 
> bringing Mary back for this fic was prime directive number one bc she didnt feature in the last part of the series. i adore this version of her so much and her relationships w both Sam and Blaine are my favourite thing about this series
> 
> i feel like ive shaded kurt a few times in here without realising it but. i love kurt i rlly do. i promise.
> 
> every place that sam considered to propose in were actually places i considered him proposing at/in over the last year. 
> 
> this is the only fic in the series to not end w some kind of reference to the series title. i just rlly couldnt make it work.
> 
> and lastly, thank u for reading and for everyone who supported this series the first time around. it rlly meant (and still does) mean the world to me that this community is so wonderful and welcoming, especially for how small we seem to be.


End file.
